


Every Second (or: What the f*** have you done with the rest of my furniture, Potter?)

by Glassfire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forward Harry, M/M, Reluctant Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassfire/pseuds/Glassfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants Draco, and he's not planning to take no for an answer.</p><p>A super-short, sweet, 'need to get it out of my head' kind of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Second (or: What the f*** have you done with the rest of my furniture, Potter?)

Harry was going to go for it.

Fuck propriety, and fuck the idea that Malfoy would likely hex his balls into separate hemispheres.

He let the thrill of it thrum through him for an extended heartbeat, and then reached over and planted an unapologetic hand on Draco’s left buttock.

Draco, to his credit, didn’t flinch.

“Do you mind explaining to me what the fuck you’re doing, Potter?”

“I’d have thought that was obvious.”

Draco gripped his fingers around Harry’s offending wrist, “Not to me.”

Harry allowed him to withdraw the hand and slipped away into the folds students heading down the corridor in the opposite direction.

* * *

 

Harry was onto something, he knew it, even if Draco didn’t.

He looked down into the other man’s eyes, felt his chest hammering, felt his fingers scrape at the brickwork he’d pushed them against, and breathed it in.

“What are you doing?”

Draco’s voice was too thin. It wavered in the thick, tangled currents of whatever it was that Harry had stirred up.

“You sound afraid.”

“Can you blame me?”

Harry blinked, his pupils gradually shrinking back to their usual size. He loosened his grip.

Draco brushed himself off, gave a wary glance over his shoulder and made to leave.

“Wait!”

“What do you _want_ from me, Potter!?” the blond snapped.

Harry considered that, trying to see logic in his own haphazard actions.

“A date,” was the only answer he could come up with.

Draco stared at him like he might have been waiting for a punch line, and then simply barked out a laugh.

“No chance,” he threw back at Harry as he stalked off into the night.

* * *

 

“ _Why_ , Potter?”

Draco allowed himself to be jostled as Harry pulled a chair up to his table.

“You’re hogging a table all to yourself,” Harry tried nonchalantly.

“I was enjoying a quiet drink.”

“It’s a bad sign you know,” Harry told him, and clarified: “Drinking by yourself. It’s fine though, I’m here to help,” he grinned, clinking his glass to Draco’s.

“Fine, have it your way,” Draco huffed.

Harry tilted his head in question.

“You wanted a date, well it seems we’re on one doesn’t it.”

“Nope,” Harry grinned into his pint of stout, stomach tumbling over. “If we were on a date, I’d have picked you up. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

Draco swung him a sideways look, “Oh yeah, I remember.”

Harry faltered. Draco saw it and was glad for it - this he could work with.

“Oh, not so pleased with yourself now are you?”

Harry studied the contents of his glass a little while, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone about things that way.”

“ _That way?_ You’re implying there’s a _correct_ way to try to get into my boxers, Potter.”

Harry looked up through his eyelashes, and turned his brightest smile up a few notches.

“Has anyone ever told you that you really know how to creep a guy out, Potter?”

“Only Voldemort,” Harry shrugged, standing. “But it’s okay, he’s in a better place now,” he said, patting Draco’s hand and leaving him there dumbfounded.

* * *

 

Draco cursed as he fought to get to his bed through the actual _shit-heap_ that was his dorm room.

Potter – and _how_ was fucking beyond Draco’s comprehension – had gotten in again and covered the place with wildflowers and retro muggle sweets, the latest in his long line of attempts to determine this so called _‘correct way’_ of his.

Draco tripped and landed stomach-first on his bed. Groaning, he unwrapped a packet of Nerds and popped a couple into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

* * *

 

When he got it right, he _really_ got it right, Draco thought to himself, looking around at the cavern of stars Harry had created where his dorm used to be. The air smelled faintly of clover, and a light summer’s breeze seemed to coast over his skin as he pulled off his t-shirt and lay down on the bed.

“Can I come in?”

Draco started, jerking his head round to where the voice had come from. “Sure,” he whispered.

“You like it?”

“Sure,” Draco said again, but Harry could hear the breathless smile that lived in the simple word.

Harry ducked his head and wrapped his arms around himself for a moment, revelling in his win.

“There you go again,” Draco chuckled softy, “Looking pleased with yourself.”

“Can’t help it, I’m…” Harry toyed around with a few words to end that sentence, “Happy.”

Draco studied him. “You really are aren’t you?”

Harry gave him a simple nod, chewing on his lip to will it silent, suddenly afraid that he might say the wrong thing and send the pair of them away from each other again.

“Come here.”

The words didn’t register with Harry at first, and then, well then they did, and all at once he found himself stood at the foot of Draco’s bed.

Draco brought himself up on his knees, fingers finding their way behind Harry’s neck. He rested their foreheads together and took a long, slow kiss from Harry’s lips.

“Was it worth it?”

Harry ran his fingers down the other man’s back, “Every second.”

Draco smirked. “I _can_ think of one slight issue.”

“Hmm?”

“What the fuck have you done with the rest of my furniture, Potter?”


End file.
